THE FISHERMAN’S TEMPTATION
It is needless to say that Robert received a joyful welcome from his
aunt. Her joy was increased when her nephew showed her the gold which he
had found upon the island.
“You see, aunt,” he said, “it wasn’t such bad luck, after all, to be
left on the island.”
“God has so shaped events as to bring good out of evil,” answered Mrs.
Trafton, who was a religious woman and went regularly to church, though
her husband never accompanied her. “But I am afraid your uncle will try
to get the money away from you.”
“I don’t want him to know it, aunt.”
“I shall not tell him, Robert, but he may find out.”
“That is not all. I have got regular work to do which will bring me in
two dollars a week.”
Then Robert told his surprised aunt the story of his engagement by the
hermit, who for two years had been the mystery of the village.
“It never rains but it pours, you see, aunt,” he said cheerfully.
He wondered how his uncle would receive him and whether he would make a
fresh demand for the small sum of money which had been the cause of the
original trouble.
But John Trafton had been thoroughly alarmed by the consequences of his
former act and he had, besides, such experience of Robert’s firmness
that he concluded it would not be worth while to carry the matter any
further. He greeted Robert sullenly.
“So you are back?” he said gruffly.
“Yes,” answered the boy.
“Who took you off?”
“I put off on a raft and should have been drowned but for the hermit. He
saved me.”
“You deserved to be drowned for putting off on a raft.”
“Did you think I was going to stay on the island?” asked Robert with
spirit. “If I had been drowned it would have been your fault.”
“None of your impudence, boy!” said John Trafton.
And then he dropped the subject without referring to the money.
During the day Robert called on Herbert Irving to thank him for his
interest in his behalf.
George was in the yard, but his valise was in his hand and he seemed on
the point of departure. He scowled at Robert, but didn’t speak.
“I’m glad to see you back, Bob,” said Herbert warmly. “What an old
rascal your uncle is! Now tell me all about how you escaped.”
While Robert was telling the story the stage drove up and George got on
board.
“Good-by, George!” said Herbert.
George did not deign a reply and rode sullenly away.
“He doesn’t find that the climate of Cook’s Harbor suits him,” said
Herbert significantly.
“He doesn’t seem very happy about going,” said Robert. “I didn’t expect
he would notice me, but he did not bid you good-by.”
“The fact is George and I have had a flare-up,” said Herbert. “I was
disgusted with his heartlessness in refusing to take you from Egg
Island, and I told him so pretty plainly. He accused me of insulting him
and threatened to lay a complaint before my mother. I requested him to
do so. Considerably to his surprise, she took my part and reproved him
for his selfish and disagreeable pride. This was too much for the young
gentleman, and he gave notice that he should return to the city. No one
attempted to keep him, and he has felt compelled to carry out his
threat, a good deal to his disappointment.”
“I am sorry you are losing your visitor on my account, Herbert.”
“You needn’t. Though he is my cousin, I am glad to have him go.”
“But you will feel lonely.”
“Not if you come to see me every day, Bob.”
“If we didn’t live in a poor cabin, I would ask you to visit me.”
“Never mind about how you live; I will come. It isn’t the house I shall
come to see, but you. Some time when you are going out fishing I wish
you would take me along.”
“With all my heart, if you will come.”
To Herbert alone Robert confided his discovery of the purse of gold.
It was about a week before Robert had occasion to use any of his gold.
By that time he had spent the balance of the money given him by Mr.
Lawrence Tudor and was forced to fall back upon his gold, having as yet
received nothing from the hermit, who knew that he was not in immediate
want of money.
Abner Sands was standing behind the counter in his grocery when Robert
entered.
“What can I do for ye, Robert?” asked the trader.
“You may give me two pounds of tea and six pounds of flour.”
“I s’pose ye’ve got the money,” said Sands cautiously.
“Of course I have.”
“You’re doin’ well now, Robert, I take it?” said the trader.
“Better than I used to,” answered Robert.
He did not choose to make a confidant of Mr. Sands, who was a man of
great curiosity and an inveterate gossip.
When the goods were done up in separate parcels Robert took out the
two-dollar-and-a-half gold piece and passed it to the grocer.
“Why, I declare, it’s gold!” exclaimed Mr. Sands wonderingly.
“Yes, it is gold.”
“Of all things, I didn’t expect to get gold from you, Robert Coverdale.
I reckon you’ve found a gold mine!”
“Perhaps I have,” said Robert, smiling.
As he put his hand in his pocket another gold piece dropped to the floor
and he picked it up hastily, provoked at his carelessness, not, however,
before the astonished trader had seen it.
He was sorely puzzled to know how a poor boy like Robert could have so
much money in his possession and put one or two questions, which our
hero evaded.
“The tea and flour came to a dollar and a quarter,” said the shrewd
trader, “and that leaves a dollar and a quarter to come to you.”
He tendered Robert a one-dollar bill and twenty-five cents.
After Robert went home Mr. Sands searched his brain in trying to guess
where he could have obtained his gold, but the more he thought the
darker and more mysterious it seemed. While in this state of perplexity
John Trafton entered the store.
He had seen Robert going out with two large parcels, and he came in to
learn what he could about them.
“How d’ye do, Sands?” he said. “Has Bob been in here?”
“Yes.”
“Did he buy anything?”
“Two pounds of tea and half a dozen pounds of flour. Seems to have
considerable money.”
“Does he?” inquired Trafton eagerly.
“I thought you knew. Why, he paid me in gold!”
“In gold?” ejaculated Trafton.
“To be sure! He give me a two-and-a-half gold piece, and that wasn’t
all. He dropped a ten-dollar gold piece by accident, but picked it right
up.”
“You don’t mean it?” said the fisherman, astounded.
“Yes, I do. But I s’posed you knew all about it.”
“I only know what you’ve told me. The fact is that boy hasn’t a spark of
gratitude. It seems he’s rolling in wealth and leaves me to get along as
I can.”
“Nephews ain’t generally expected to provide for their uncles,” said
Abner Sands dryly.
But John Trafton did not hear him. As he left the store an idea entered
his mind. He knew that Robert had found a friend in the hermit, and he
decided that the gold came from him.
If that was the case, the hermit must be rich. Who knows but he might
have thousands of dollars in the cave? The fisherman’s eyes sparkled
with greed and he was assailed by a powerful temptation. His credit at
the tavern was about exhausted. What a pity he could not get some of the
gold, which appeared to do its possessor so little good!